Infinitely Losing My Edge
Yeah, I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
The kids are coming up from behind.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids from Sri Lanka and from Hong Kong.
But I was there.
I was there in .
I was there at the first Suicide show in New York.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge to the kids whose footsteps I hear when they get on the decks.
I'm losing my edge to the internet seekers who can tell me every member of every good group from 1969 to 1973.
I'm losing my edge.
To all the kids in Philadelphia and Manchester.
I'm losing my edge to the art-school Cairo kids in little jackets and borrowed nostalgia for the unremembered nineties.
I'm losing my edge.
I'm losing my edge.
I can hear the footsteps every night on the decks.
But I was there.
I was there in 1975 at the first Throbbing Gristle practice in a loft in London.
I was working on the synthesizer sounds with much patience.
I was there when Tom Verlaine started up his first band.
I told him, "Don't do it that way. You'll never make a dime."
I was there.
I was the first guy playing D'Angelo to the electroclash kids.
I played it at Trash.
Everybody thought I was crazy.
We all know.
I was there.
I was there.
I've never been wrong.
But I'm losing my edge to better-looking people with better ideas and more talent.
And they're actually really, really nice.
I'm losing my edge.
I heard you have a compilation of every good song ever done by anybody.
Every great song by Hoover. All the underground hits.
All In Retrospect tracks. I heard you have a vinyl of every Electric Prunes record on German import.
I heard that you have a white label of every seminal jazz hit - 1985, '86, '87.
I heard that you have a CD compilation of every good '80s cut and another box set from the '80s.
I hear you're buying a güiro and a spring reverb and are throwing your macbook out the window because you want to make something real. You want to make a Matthew Bourne record.
I hear that you and your band have sold your harpsichord and bought a spring reverb.
I hear that you and your band have sold your spring reverb and bought a harpsichord.
I hear everybody that you know is more relevant than everybody that I know.
But have you seen my records?
The Offenders,
Cheater Slicks,
Jacob Miller,
The Doors,
Deakin,
Agent Orange,
Mark Hollis,
This Heat,
Gong,
Donny Hathaway,
Frankie Knuckles,
Sparks,
Oppenheimer Analysis,
Duran Duran,
Lizzy Mercier Descloux,
Kaleidoscope,
Sunsets and Hearts,
Pussy Galore,
Yusef Lateef,
T. Rex,
Susan Cadogan,
David Bowie,
Joey Negro,
Beasts of Bourbon,
Mr. Review,
the Human League,
Hasil Adkins,
The Cure,
Sun City Girls,
The Blackbyrds,
the Germs,
Jerry's Kids,
X-101,
Outsiders,
Buzzcocks,
Jeff Mills,
Slick Rick,
Orchestral Manoeuvres in the Dark,
Sonny Sharrock,
The Men They Couldn't Hang,
Severed Heads,
Matthew Halsall,
Kauko Röyhkä ja Narttu,
Johnny Osbourne,
Dark Day,
Bootsy Collins,
Chris Corsano,
Alison Limerick,
Bob Dylan,
DJ Sneak,
The Motions,
the Fania All-Stars,
The Index,
One Last Wish,
Marine Girls,
The Techniques,
The Neon Judgement,
The Move,
The New Christs,
Aswad,
Ice-T,
Pharoah Sanders,
Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment, Sexual Harrassment.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.
You don't know what you really want.